


I'll Be Your Soldier

by TotalFanGirl221B



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:58:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3832762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotalFanGirl221B/pseuds/TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Douglas comforted Martin, and one time he couldn't</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Cabin Pressure or any of the wonderful characters, unfortunately!

Martin hit his alarm clock with extra aggressiveness this morning. _Great,_ he thought, _another year older._ He sighed as he kicked his legs out onto the edge of the bed and rubbed his face with his hands. It wasn’t so much the growing up that bothered him; it was the fact that nobody really ever _cared._ And it occurred to him; if nobody _else_ cares, why should he? Because it _was_ just a normal day. Maybe he got a call from his mother, and sometimes Caitlyn, but that was about it. Nothing spectacular happened. He smiled as he remembered all the things his father used to do for him; how he made it such a special day. Now he really did do a good job of making Martin feel better. Well, when he was younger he did. When he was older it was Simon who was the special one, Martin could see that. Simon got money, Martin got the van. _Because he knows you can do_ something _with it, something better than being a_ pilot, _than following your dreams._ The voice rang in his head. He really didn’t understand why his father never really managed to get it into his head that all Martin _ever_ wanted to be was a pilot. His father never understood that even though you fail once, twice… several times, in fact, you should still keep _going_ if you _know_ that is the only thing right for you, and you should have your parents there to back you the whole way. Anyway, today wasn’t the day to get angry at his dead father, today was the day to just act as if everything was _normal,_ to pretend _not_ to be disappointed when there is no surprise for you waiting just because you turned a year older, and to just _get on with it._ The worst thing was he had to spend his day on standby for Mr Goddard _again._ This was going to be dreary. 

* * *

 

When Martin arrived to the portakabin there were no balloons, no crazy decorations or banners or anything. Not that Martin had been expecting any, of course, not even just a card waiting for him. No, all he was waiting for today was the phone call from his mother to give him a cheesy message.

                Fortunately, everybody had yet to turn up and so he could sit in the portakabin in peace without anybody _annoying_ him or mocking him. He could just enjoy the blissful silence. No. No, he wasn’t allowed even that; as soon as he had made himself comfortable Carolyn and Arthur came barging in, bringing Martin from his thoughts. He was, though, a tiny bit grateful although he wouldn’t admit it. God, he hated this day.

                Arthur cheered him up though, rattling on about some useless nonsense. Martin allowed himself to listen even though it made absolutely _no sense,_ and sometimes made him slightly aggravated that he just _couldn’t_ explain something so simple to Arthur, because it was so self-explanatory that you never really _need_ to explain it, and so you haven’t had any practice in doing so. Then, when that day comes along where Arthur asks you about it, you don’t have the words ready; you just _can’t_ explain it in any way possible. Still, it was a lot better than continually thinking about how on this day, 31 years ago, you were born, and not a _single person_ in the world gives a damn. His mother hadn’t even called yet, which made him slightly anxious, but he couldn’t exactly call her and remind her because that was just stupid. No, no, she would call him soon, _definitely._ He thought as he listened to Arthur ramble on some more.

                Douglas arrived half an hour late, not as late as usual; he made sure to point out to Carolyn who began giving him stick for it. Martin didn’t even bother looking up from the flight plan when Douglas sat by his desk. “Good morning, Martin.” Martin didn’t respond, so absorbed in the work and everything going on in his head that he just didn’t hear Douglas. “ _Good morning, Douglas. How are you?”_ Douglas started, mimicking Martin’s voice which caused the pilot to finally look over. “Oh, I’m alright, Martin, thank you for asking, and how are you today?” Martin frowned as Douglas spoke next. “ _I’m fine- fine.”_ Why did Douglas have to be so cruel? Martin thought as he turned back to his paperwork, now _definitely_ angry. Douglas had to pick today of all days to really have at him. _Perfect timing._ He wrote his notes furiously, barely making time to take the pen off the paper. “Relax, I was only joking.” Douglas pointed out when he noticed the speed Martin was writing at. Martin didn’t bother to acknowledge his comment and continued to write at an aggressive speed. “Suit yourself,” Douglas grumbled as he sat back in his seat grabbing the paper from his desk.

* * *

 

“Douglas, have you said something to Skip again?” Douglas peered over his paper to find Arthur sat behind his desk, no Martin in sight.

“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, pretending to seem affronted by the accusation.

“He just stormed off, don’t know why. Normally he does that when you’ve been speaking to him.” Douglas grinned a little, but then also seemed a little intrigued. Surely Martin wasn’t still upset about what happened this _morning,_ was he? That had been hours ago, he couldn’t still be annoyed at Douglas for that, especially as it wasn’t even so _bad,_ at least not compared to what he normally says.

“Maybe he’s upset about something else? Money problems, probably.” He suggested, knowing Arthur didn’t really understand Martin’s financial problems.

“Maybe,” he trailed off, seeming a little saddened by it all. “It’s his _birthday, though._ You can’t be sad on your _birthday!”_ Arthur insisted, and now Douglas put his paper down.

“Today’s Martin’s birthday?” Arthur nodded. “Why didn’t he tell anyone?”

“Maybe he thought you’d be horrible to him about it or something.” Arthur suggested. Douglas watched him, realising that probably wasn’t far from the truth. As much as Arthur seemed not to really understand people, it appeared as though he knew quite a lot about the members of MJN. “Though, he didn’t want anybody to know, really. He didn’t even tell _me,”_ Arthur stated. “I just found out because his mum told me when I went to help her out. She told me he doesn’t really tell anybody; likes to keep it to himself.” He nodded sadly. “Bit lonely, though; celebrating your birthday on your _own._ He must have friends to celebrate with him.” Arthur hoped. Douglas did too, but he knew it was unlikely as Martin spent most of his time working, and therefore didn’t have the time to go out, or money for that matter, and so he didn’t really have any chances to make friends. The only time he ever really got to socialise was when he was at MJN.

“Did you see where he was off to?"

* * *

 

Douglas found Martin sat in the flight deck all alone, slumped in his chair comfortably. He entered slowly, until Martin turned around and he stopped completely. “What is it, Douglas? Come to make fun of me some more? Because I _really_ don’t feel like it today, any other day-”

“Oh Martin, I simply came in to see if you were alright. You seemed quite frustrated storming out of the portakabin like that.” He spoke with his usual sophisticated tone, sitting in his chair beside Martin.

“Well I’m fine, just don’t appreciate you mocking me all of the time.” He mumbled, trying not to face Douglas.

“Is this about this morning? Because I didn’t _mean_ to annoy you, Martin-”

“Douglas, it’s _fine._ Just leave it. I just want to be on my own, alright?” he spoke sternly, interrupting Douglas. Now that was a first. Douglas was silent for a moment, but still not moving. “Douglas.” Martin began to get more and more irritated by his first officer’s presence.

“Alright, alright.” Douglas finally said, lifting himself from his chair. “I just wondered if you wanted to go out for a pint later?”

“You don’t _drink.”_

“But you do,”

“ _Yes,_ but _why_ if _you_ don’t?” Douglas shrugged, clearly not getting the point across to Martin. Subtlety was not the way to go. “I don’t have any money, anyway, and to be honest I’d rather just go home.” He sighed, staring down at the floor.

“Are you sure? My treat,” Martin glanced round, shooting Douglas a suspicious look. Douglas seemed hopeful; maybe Martin had finally clocked on, maybe he understood. But then Martin turned back and it was clear he _still_ didn’t understand.

“M-maybe…” he nodded, which was good enough for Douglas as he soon left.

* * *

 

“Martin, come on, let’s go!” Douglas insisted, trying to drag Martin out of the portakabin. “You said you would come.”

“I said I’d _maybe_ come.” Douglas’ face fell as he watched Martin continue with paperwork. How much paperwork did that man do? He wondered, then realised he had to do Douglas’ share as well. “I’ve still got work to do.”

“You can do that _tomorrow,_ it’s not going to run away or anything, is it?” Martin sighed, exasperated.

“I’m expecting a call from my mum anytime-”

“It’s called a _mobile_ phone, Martin! _Mobile_ meaning you can _bring it with you.”_

“Why do you want me to come so badly?” Douglas didn’t know really how to respond to that. Because he couldn’t tell Martin the truth; that would ruin the surprise and would mean this whole thing has been for nothing! But he had to tell Martin something _convincing._

 _“_ Well, I just…” he spoke, trying to seem truthful as he went on. “It’s been lonely in my house since Helena left, and I just wanted to spend some time _away_ from there.” Okay, Martin _had_ to go with that. Even if he didn’t, he still wouldn’t run the risk of it being the truth and then abandoning Douglas. So, Martin finally gave in, grabbing his coat and following Douglas to his car.

* * *

 

They arrived at the pub, finally. Douglas had been behaving slightly odd in the car on the way there, and so Martin just wanted to get this over with. Whatever _this_ was. He just wanted to go home, having a slither of cake with a useless candle stuck in the middle of it, and play some flight stimulator. That’s _all_ he wanted to do. But he could hardly refuse when Douglas had explained to him the reason for going out, so he may as well just try and _enjoy_ it. He scoffed internally; he would do everything _but_ enjoy this, he thought to himself as they entered.

                But, when they went in, he was greeted by something he really _never_ would have expected. Carolyn and Arthur were there sat at a table with a huge cake plonked on top of it, waiting for him to arrive. He should have guessed. How _stupid_ had he been not to see that _this_ is what Douglas had planned. He practically beamed, though he didn’t really know why, and turned to Douglas. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew!” Douglas scoffed. “We’re friends, after all, Martin.” He patted him on the back. “Though, this was really more Arthur’s idea than mine; I’m not so good at planning parties for men in their thirties. To be honest, I wouldn’t exactly call this is a party, though.” Martin chuckled.

“It’s probably better than any other,” Martin nodded, looking over at Arthur and Carolyn who still hadn’t actually noticed them stood in the doorway. Arthur was rambling on to Carolyn this time about some complete nonsense, and so she was contained in that. Martin was amused seeing the confusion on her face as she went through the very same thought process he had done that morning.

“Oh, really? How can you get worse than _this?”_ Douglas laughed.

“Pretty easily if your name is Martin Crieff,” his smile fell. “Nobody ever turned up to my other parties. I mean, my dad would always try and figure something out, he’d always find some way to make me happy, but it’s kind of devastating when absolutely _nobody_ turns up to your birthday party _ever.”_

 _“_ Children can be cruel,” Douglas agreed.

Martin sighed. “That’s why I never really tell anyone; you can’t be disappointed if nobody knows to disappoint you.”

“Martin,” Douglas looked down at him. “Do you have some sort of challenge of how many sad stories of your life you can think of? Because I have heard a _lot_ from you, you may have broken the record.” Martin smiled.

“Fair enough.”

                Eventually the pair did go and join the table, everybody except Arthur refused to sing happy birthday to Martin. Martin couldn’t help but grin, however embarrassing it was. It soon began to get late, however, and Carolyn and Arthur left, leaving Martin and Douglas on their own once again. “Thanks, Douglas.” Martin smiled. “I know Arthur did a lot of this too, but thanks.” He smiled.

“You’re welcome, captain Crieff.” Then he rummaged through his bag and brought out a small package wrapped up. “There you go,” he said passing it over to Martin who was quite surprised.

“Douglas, you didn’t have to-”

“Just open it!”

“Oh,” Martin seemed puzzled as he pulled out the lipstick from the package. “Er… thank you?”

“In case of emergency.” The pair smirked.

“Ah,” he laughed. “Now you _really_ didn’t have to.”

“I know, I know, but I thought that shade suited you.”

“Shut up.” Martin frowned.

                “Martin, do you know when _my_ birthday is?” Douglas asked as they sat in the car at traffic lights. Martin froze. Douglas’ birthday? _Of course he knew when that was, didn’t he?_ He scrambled his mind for an answer, but there was nothing to find. Douglas chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to remind you.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Martin Crieff? Is that _you?_ Blimey!” Martin recognised the voice coming from the portakabin door immediately and shuddered. It _couldn’t_ be. How? _Why?_ He grimaced as he realised it really _was_ Richard Wright who had been standing at the door and had now entered to get a proper look at his old high school “friend”. “I can’t believe it,” he exclaimed, forcing his hand down on Martin’s shoulder. Martin flinched and then looked up to the beaming face, already sensing the mockery on its way; he could see it in the sinister smile plastered on Richard’s face. “You _actually_ became a pilot! Wow, good for you.” He shook Martin’s shoulder a little. “Me and the other lads didn’t ever think you’d _actually_ make it, but here you are! Maybe not in the _best_ of places, but…” he spoke, looking around the room. Martin didn’t know how to react. He didn’t _want_ to react. God, this was _awful. Why are you_ here? Martin thought to himself as the dark eyes turned back to him. “Oh, I suppose you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here?” he chuckled. “Just going away on some business for two days, and you guys are cheap, so… Why throw away good money?” he smirked, finally releasing his grip on Martin’s shoulder. Martin exhaled with relief, dropping his shoulders a little so Richard wouldn’t do it again. “Well, I’d probably better get ready, we’re off soon!” Richard grinned once more before leaving the portakabin _finally_ and Martin went as pale as a sheet. He couldn’t do _this._ He _hated_ that man. After _everything_ that he had done to him in the past… He couldn’t do _this._

* * *

 

“So Martin, up for a game of the Travelling Lemon?” Douglas queried, noting the extra fidgety nature of his captain today.

“No.” Martin kept his eyes in front, not wanting Douglas to see the pure panic in his eyes. He couldn’t _play a game_ while trying to seem at least a _little_ professional so Richard couldn’t laugh at him. Though, he _would._ He would always find _something_ to laugh at Martin for; he would just _know_ what to say to really hurt Martin.

                Douglas was taken slightly aback by the abrupt response he received, so much so he didn’t suggest another game. He just kept glancing towards his captain, trying to figure out the puzzle that was _Martin Crieff._ He had to admit; today Martin did seem _really_ on edge. What he didn’t understand though was _why?_ They had flown to this very place several times, so it can’t be something to do with that, he seemed to be doing enough van jobs to keep him going for a while, and he had seemed perfectly alright this morning when Douglas had seen him. So what had _happened?_ Something must have gone wrong in the time Douglas had last seen him in the portakabin and then in GERTI because he _really_ had seemed fine when he got to the airfield this morning.

                Suddenly, before Douglas could maybe approach Martin about it, Carolyn came storming in. “He’s smoking! He’s in the toilets _smoking!”_ she huffed. “Douglas, put Martin’s hat on.” She ordered. Douglas waited a moment; not bothering to refuse because he knew Martin would instantly turn around and say that he would do it because _he was the captain._ But nothing happened. Martin didn’t turn around; he didn’t remind Carolyn of his position. He just sat timidly in the background. Douglas didn’t really understand, and neither did Carolyn by the look on her face, and so they both turned to him. “Martin, is everything alright?”

“W-what? Everything’s fine- fine!” he insisted quickly, having not paid much attention to the conversation.

“ _Clearly_ ,” Douglas spoke sarcastically. Martin shot him a glare but he carried on. “Mr Wright is smoking in the toilets, you need to go and sort it out.”

“What? I thought Carolyn asked _you_ to do it.”

“Yes, but I needless remind you that I am _not_ the captain; _you_ are.” he insisted, seeing how Martin would react to this.

“Y-yes, but he- he won’t _listen_ to _me,_ Douglas!”

“Right, will _somebody_ go and put out that damn cigarette?” Carolyn almost shouted, shutting the pair up. Martin and Douglas both turned to each other, as if having a staring contest. Martin could see Douglas had a lot of willpower, and so he gave in, sagging his shoulders and lifting himself from his seat.

“ _Fine,”_ he groaned, leaving the flight deck.

                “Martin, Martin, I just need a _quick_ smoke. Surely you’ll let me have _that?_ Come _on,_ we’re friends after all!” Richard said, exhaling his smoke into Martin’s face. Martin looked down at the floor timidly. He couldn’t do _this._ He tried to reason with Richard, but he kept insisting that he was just going to have the _one._

“Richard, _please-”_ Martin began to beg.

“See, you still don’t have the _guts_ to command someone!” Richard spoke aggressively, changing his tactics. This is what worked in high school, so it should still work now. “You are such a _pushover!_ If I was at any other airline I would be back in my chair without a cig, but _no, not here,_ because _you’re_ the captain. _God_ only knows how you got into that position! You’re so shy, so _quiet,_ you couldn’t _command_ somebody if you tried! You’re a _nobody,_ Martin. Don’t you see that? Now can’t you see why we didn’t get along in high school? Why you didn’t get along with _anybody?_ Because you are obsessed with this _idea_ of becoming a pilot,” he continued, waving his arms around. “Yet you let everybody _walk over you!”_ he smirked, laughing a little. “Now go on, go back to the flight deck. I’m going to _carry on_ smoking, and there’s _nothing_ you can do about it, _captain.”_ Martin was frozen, as he had been the entire time. He just stood there, shivering slightly, tears forming in his eyes. He _definitely_ preferred the way Douglas called him captain; yes, it may have been in a mocking tone, but it wasn’t as bad as how venomous it sounded coming from Richard’s mouth. He got out of there as soon as he had collected himself and re-entered the flight deck, still trembling with fear.

“Martin?” Douglas spoke as Martin only just managed to sit himself down, almost missing the chair. He turned to the controls, not bothering to reply to Douglas or say a word to anyone at this moment in time; he just wanted to sit on his own. _Isolate himself._ He couldn’t wait until they had landed. “Martin?” Douglas spoke again, reaching a hand over. Martin flinched instantly, and Douglas paused, alarmed by Martin’s sudden movement. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m fine.” He whispered, still not bothering to look up, or explain himself.

“Has he stopped smoking?” Martin didn’t answer. He didn’t need to; it was obvious to _anybody_ that he still was, because Martin couldn’t hurt a fly. He couldn’t _command_ anybody, he couldn’t _scare_ anybody. Maybe he _really_ wasn’t cut out for this. “I’ll go and have a word,” Douglas spoke after a long silence, but as soon as he got up, Martin grabbed hold of his arm.

“Please, _please don’t,_ Douglas!” he begged. “Just… _don’t.”_ he sighed.

“Why not? He needs to stop, Martin.” He said, tugging his hand from Martin’s grip and leaving the flight deck. Martin sighed, shuddering as he brought his arms around himself.

* * *

 

 

Douglas came back shortly after, dropping himself back into his seat. “Well, he seems _delightful._ Good job we haven’t got long left.” He nodded, turning to Martin who still had his arms around himself, staring out of the window. “Did he say something to you?” he asked kindly. Martin, though, didn’t respond, a little too frightened. He didn’t really know what of, to be quite honest; Richard wasn’t in there with him, and he would never have to see Richard again, so what was the problem? He was just… worried. Because maybe Richard was _right._ Maybe he really _shouldn’t_ be a captain. Maybe he should get a job appropriate for _pushovers._ He wrapped his arms around himself tighter, not bothering to wipe the tears forming in his eyes once more. Douglas watched him, not knowing what to say or do, because Martin wasn’t going to respond. He knew he couldn’t touch him or reach out, because the last time he had tried that Martin had recoiled. Something or _someone_ had definitely _frightened_ him.

* * *

 

Martin went straight up to his lousy hotel room, once again sharing with Douglas. He threw himself down onto the side of the bed, wishing the day away. Douglas had called out to him, trying to get him to go outside for a bit before retreating to their room, but Martin had simply refused and sluggishly made his way to the room.

                He was just getting comfortable, when there was a knock on the door. _Oh God, who could it be?_ He wondered, frantically wiping away new tears. He knew it wasn’t Douglas; he would have just used his key. It wouldn’t be Carolyn because she scarcely visited her pilots’ rooms when away. Maybe it was Arthur. That thought didn’t really make him feel any better; as cheerful as Arthur was, he wasn’t really somebody Martin wanted to be around right now. He knew he would get hundreds of questions asking him why he was feeling so miserable and so on, and he _really_ wasn’t in the mood for that. He just wanted to be on his _own,_ why did nobody understand that?

                He stumbled over to the door, sighing as he turned the handle. Then, horror hit his face as Richard pushed his way in. “R-Richard? W-what… what are you doing here?” he panicked, forgetting to shut the door. Richard stared at him and grinned.

“I like this room,” he smirked. “Suits you; tacky and useless; almost falling apart.” He laughed.

“What- what do you want?” Martin managed, trying to back away from Richard.

“I want your first officer to _apologise_ to me.” He demanded. “I want _you_ to make him apologise to me.”

“W-what for?” he said, edging further and further away into the corner as Richard came closer.

“He was rude to me on the flight, threw my whole pack of cigs away.” He pointed his finger at Martin. “Now you, you’re gonna get him to apologise to me, alright?” Martin panicked. He was now trapped in the corner of the room, trembling and almost sliding down due to the closeness of this madman. “ _Martin,”_ he chanted.

“N-no, I-I…” he faltered, his heart feeling as though it was going to burst through his chest any moment.

“ _What_ did you say to me?” Richard smirked. “You _will_ get him to apologise to me, or you’re gonna pay, _alright?”_ Martin couldn’t speak, he couldn’t find any words. “I _said, alright_?” Martin nodded desperately. Richard dropped his finger and smiled. “Good. Now, off you pop, go be a good little captain.” He waved Martin away. Though, before Martin could move, a voice came from behind both men. Martin flushed even more when realising who it was.

“I’m not going to _apologise_ to a low life such as yourself,” Richard turned immediately. “ _Especially_ when you’ve cornered my captain like that.” Douglas moved closer to Richard, showing him he was not afraid. Martin wished he could do that. Even now he still hid.

“Oh yeah, what’re you gonna do about it?”

“I’m going to _tell_ you to leave, _now,_ and don’t come near Martin or MJN air _again.”_ Douglas spoke sternly, standing his ground.

                It went on a little longer, until Douglas had finally defeated Richard and rushed over to Martin who sank to the floor. “Martin is everything alright?” he asked, sitting in front of him. Martin’s breathing was now normalising, and he sighed with relief.

“You- you got rid of him.” He nodded.

“What did he say to you?”

“I don’t…” Martin shook his head. “It was all- all a sort of blur.” He spoke quickly. “He just kept telling me I need to make you _apologise_ to him; he kept saying I _had_ to-”

“It’s alright, Martin, it’s alright – just calm down.” Douglas said upon noticing Martin’s breathing was unsteady again as he spoke frantically.

                They sat together for almost an hour in silence, Douglas monitoring Martin’s breathing and Martin just trying to order everything that had actually happened. “What happened this morning, Martin? And on GERTI? What did he say?” Douglas asked gently, allowing Martin to see that if he didn’t want to say then he didn’t have to. Martin sighed and looked down at the floor.

“He came into the portakabin this morning… I don’t know what it was, but I was _already_ scared of him, and all he did was say hello… Sort of… He just- he… we went to high school together and he – with _a lot_ of other people – they- they didn’t really like me and well…” he trailed off. “They didn’t like it that I was always on about planes- said I would never be a pilot. And, I guess there was always something inside me that… that knew they were right.” He shook his head. “And then Richard said something in the toilet… something about me not being able to _command_ anyone, that _God only knows how I became a pilot_ or something…”

“But you are, Martin. You _are_ a pilot.”

“Hm… I don’t get _paid,_ though. A- and y- you never _listen_ to me! I could tell you _not to do something,_ and you’ll _do it.”_

“Martin,” Douglas sighed, placing a hand on Martin’s shoulder, grateful that he didn’t flinch away this time. “I _respect_ you, alright? You _are_ a good captain. Nobody deserves to be a captain more than _you_ do, believe me.” Martin turned his head with a quizzical expression. “Well, maybe _I_ do, but _apart_ from me,” Douglas smirked, managing to get a small laugh out of Martin and a smile. “You know _what_ to do and I know _how –_ we’re a _team,_ all first officers and captains _are._ All _friends_ are.” He smiled sincerely. Martin smiled back to him and nodded, moving closer into Douglas’ touch, knowing he didn’t _need_ to say thank you, because Douglas already knew.


	3. Chapter 3

“Martin! Martin, what is _wrong?”_ Douglas awoke, agitated by the noises coming from his captain – what was wrong with him? Did he even know what _time_ it was? Douglas mumbled as he threw himself out of bed and stormed over to Martin’s, finding something quite unexpected. Well, to be honest, he hadn’t really known _what_ to expect, but it definitely wasn’t the captain shivering in his bed – even though he was holding his cover close to his chin – with his face all scrunched up. Douglas knew the signs of a nightmare, but never had he thought of them being shown in the face of a thirty year old man. Especially _Martin._ Of course, he had worries, but they weren’t _this_ dramatic, surely. As he thought he realised the man was still shivering and his mumbling getting worse – quicker, frantic. He decided to take action; gently placing his hands on Martin’s shoulders, he tried to whisper “Martin? Wake up,” but there was no reaction, just more shaking. “Martin, wake _up,”_ he spoke more insistently, shaking the man a little. After a few tries it worked, and Martin pushed Douglas back with a fright, startled by the sudden motion. His eyes immediately scanned the room as his breath went out of control.

“D- Douglas?” he panted, looking to his co-pilot who was now at the wall beside Martin’s bed.

“Martin, you need to _breath.”_ He spoke calmly, walking back over slowly with a reassuring hand out in front of him.

“I- I c- can’t-” he gasped.

Douglas knelt down in front of the struggling man, reaching out for his hand. “You can, Martin, just copy me,” he spoke quietly, and then took a deep breath in and then out. After three times, Martin began trying to mimic him, but failed miserably which only panicked him more.

“I- I _can’t,”_ he began to sob, hyperventilating.

“Yes, you _can._ Come on, _with_ me. OK?” he smiled a comforting smile, which Martin had never seen in Douglas before. “Now in,” he demonstrated and waited for Martin to join in. “And _out,”_ Martin followed, and gradually began to copy Douglas’ breathing. Douglas moved his fingers on Martin’s hand and checked his pulse, nodding. “That’s good, that’s good.” He smiled back up at Martin.

                It took Martin a few minutes, but he eventually calmed down properly and ran his hand through his ginger curls, going red with embarrassment. _Douglas had had to wake him from a_ nightmare. _God knows how long he would hold onto that._ “Thank- thank you,” he cleared his throat whilst Douglas finally stood up, groaning from sitting in such an awkward position, and sat beside Martin. Martin, however, didn’t take his eyes up from the floor, too embarrassed to look Douglas in the eyes.

“It’s alright; Verity used to have a lot of nightmares,” he comforted. Martin cringed, though, realising he was being compared to a _child._

“Right, right.” He spoke after a moment of silence, wishing _this_ was the nightmare rather than real life. Of course though, his life was never so simple. Never so _kind._

                Douglas didn’t have a clue what to say. There was an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air, and there was nothing really any of them could say to make this situation any more _comfortable._ Because this truly was the definition of _awkward._ Especially for Martin, being woken by a co-worker because of a nightmare. And the comment about Verity clearly _didn’t_ help, but what else was he supposed to say? He watched Martin, sat staring down at the floor, clearly wishing that Douglas would just go back to bed and leave him be, never mentioning this _again._ But Douglas was slightly intrigued. Because he had never known Martin to have nightmares on these trips – when they shared a room, that is – yet he didn’t seem alarmed after the nightmare, as though this was a regular occurrence. Was Martin’s life _really_ so terrible? “S-sorry for waking you,” Martin whispered finally, bringing Douglas from his reverie.

“No, no, it’s fine. Couldn’t get to sleep in that bed anyway – it would be better sleeping on a _rock.”_ To this Martin stifled a chuckled, looking up at last to his first officer.

“Well, er… it won’t- won’t happen again,” Martin promised. “So you can… er- you can…” Douglas realised what Martin was trying to say, but too polite to actually find the words. That was Martin Crieff for you; good old Martin. So, Douglas saved him from fumbling on and pushed himself off of the bed.

“You’re definitely alright?” he checked, pausing before going to his bed. Martin hesitated for a moment, only a moment, but too long a moment; long enough a moment for Douglas to see. Then, he nodded. Douglas didn’t press on the issue; he had already caused Martin enough embarrassment for tonight, he should just leave it at that. He smiled the comforting smile again, which made Martin feel a little warmer, because he’d never seen such a smile worn by Douglas directed at him, and he made his way to his own bed.

                Douglas, however, didn’t sleep very well that night. Partly because of the frankly _awful_ mattress, and partly because he had heard Martin leave to go into the bathroom almost an hour ago, but had not yet made any sign that he had returned. Douglas knew it was down to nerves, it had to be. But what if it _wasn’t?_ What if there was something _more?_ Maybe he’d hurt himself in there due to exhaustion and his terrible luck. Douglas, though, knew it would be wrong and _stupid_ to go in and check on him; he’d only embarrass him more, especially if he _was_ fine, just getting over the nerves. Because then it made it seem as though he needed checking on – a thirty year old man needed checking on – and Martin _definitely_ didn’t want _that._ Especially from _Douglas._

                He waited and waited, checking the clock on the bedside table. He _had_ been in there for a while now. _Maybe_ Douglas _should_ go and check on him – just to make sure he’s alright. After a few minutes debating in his head whether it _was_ the best decision, he kicked the blanket off of him and staggered over to the bathroom door. He knocked gently using the side of his knuckles. “Martin?” he called in quietly. He heard a little cough, and then a sort of sob. _He’d been sat in there_ crying. _Great, you’ve embarrassed him_ even more _now,_ Douglas thought to himself, cringing at the realisation.

“C- Come in.” the man on the other side of the door called out, trying to force himself to use his normal voice, but failing terribly. Slowly, Douglas turned the handle and carefully opened the door. Martin was sat in front of the shower, leaning against the door of it, legs pulled up to his chest and his chin lying on top of his knees. His eyes were huge and red, still tears were forming in them, although it was clear he had made an attempt to rub all evidence away. He closed his eyes when Douglas stood in the doorway taking the whole scene in, realising that everything had just gone _wrong._

“Everything alright?” as soon as he spoke, he rolled his eyes, realising just how stupid that actually sounded out loud. Martin didn’t bother opening his eyes.

“What do you think?” he sighed. Douglas felt a little sympathy for the man, although he didn’t have a real idea of what was actually causing his pilot so much distress. He walked over and plumped himself down beside his captain, not too close causing discomfort, just enough to provide some support.

“It’s fine, you know? Having nightmares isn’t just _exclusive_ to children-” Douglas began, but was suddenly cut off.

“ _Douglas.”_ Martin sighed. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Can we just drop it?” he asked, tucking himself further into himself.

“Oh, yes, sorry.” Well, Douglas had really found something he _wasn’t_ good at; comforting Martin. Was _anybody_ good at that job? Because Martin seemed upset quite a lot. Did anybody even _try_ to be good at that job? Douglas grimaced at the image of Martin’s family, not _really_ being there for him. Maybe they helped him sometimes, when he was _younger,_ but it seemed they had really left him alone in the wild, forcing him to get used to the harsh world without them.

                “H- how did you know I was in here?” Martin asked, pulling his head out from behind his knees, looking up at Douglas.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He said simply, not caring to elaborate on the matter. Martin didn’t seem, however, to mind, as he nodded and turned his attention to the toilet in front of him.

“I didn’t… didn’t _wake_ you again, did I?” he seemed sad as he indicated to the toilet. Douglas realised what he was getting at and shook his head truthfully; if he _had_ heard Martin vomiting he undoubtedly would have come to help much sooner. “I just… I don’t know what came _over me…”_ Douglas turned down to look at him as he still stared intently at the toilet. “God, I’m so _pathetic.”_ He rubbed a hand through his hair again, letting go of a breath. Douglas didn’t understand _why_ Martin thought he _was_ so pathetic, though. Well, his life _did_ seem pretty bad, and unfair, but it was not so much more pathetic than Douglas’; he had been married three times, lived alone, and was working at a _dreadful_ air _dot_ as a _first officer._ Now _that_ was pathetic. Though, in Martin’s eyes…

“I’ve been sat in here for about _two hours_ now, panicking and… I don’t know _why._ Why do I _bother?”_ he sighed, shaking his head. Douglas would have spoken now, but Martin carried on. “I’m being evicted.” He let out, shocking Douglas for a second.

“… What?”

“As soon as we get home from this trip, I have to get my stuff. I have to leave.” he stared at the floor. “My landlord… he’s _tried,_ he always does- always making exceptions for me. But he just _couldn’t._ And I- I understand, of course. I _understand._ B-but it’s just, I have _nowhere_ to go. I don’t… I don’t know _where_ I’m supposed to leave _to.”_  Tears began forming in his eyes again, but his arms stayed wrapped around his legs, and he didn’t bother making a move to rub them away. Douglas wondered why Martin was opening up so much to him, but he supposed it was purely because he didn’t know what he had to _lose_ anymore; he’d lost a lot of his money, his flat, and so what was his dignity to him now? “I don’t know what I’m going to _do!”_ he cried out, falling sideways onto Douglas’ shoulder. Douglas managed not to pull back due to sheer surprise, but instead curled his arm around the devastated man who now had his hands covering his eyes as his tears poured down his face, and he barely managed to get anywhere words out due to sobbing so frequently. “ _God,_ I- I don’t – don’t know what – what to _do!”_ Douglas tightened his grip around Martin and held him closer.

“Don’t worry, Martin, it’s _alright.”_

“It’s _not!_ It never _will be!”_ he shouted, now waving his arms about. “I don’t have any _money,_ and now I don’t even have an _attic_ to go to!” he recoiled back into himself; Douglas could feel him trembling underneath him. “What will I _do?”_ he whispered, shuddering. Douglas didn’t say anything, just held him closer and held him as though he were his child; he had always seen Martin as a son, he didn’t know _why,_ maybe it was the fact that he always needed some sort of protection.

“It’s alright, Martin,” he repeated calmly, calming Martin down. “It’ll be alright.”

* * *

 

“Martin?” Douglas ran after the pilot now leaving the airfield to get to his van and just get home. Well, to collect his things from his _old_ home. He didn’t stop when he heard Douglas, but then was forced to as his arm was grabbed by his first officer’s hand. He huffed and turned abruptly, shoving Douglas’ arm from his grip.

“ _What?”_ he spoke, irritated.

“You can stay with me,” he began, suddenly realising maybe that didn’t sound so great to start the conversation.

“Douglas, what are you talking about?” Martin asked, exasperated.

“I have a spare bedroom, and my house is so _big._ It’s quite horrible when you’re on your own.”

“D-Douglas, I appreciate the gesture, but-”

“Oh no, no, this isn’t some sort of charity, Martin. This is just to benefit the _both of us.”_ Martin stared at him for a moment with a confused look. “You need a place to stay, and _I_ cannot stand living on my own. Ever since Helena left, it’s been so quiet; you’d be doing _me_ a favour by moving in!”

“Douglas, really, I can’t-”

“Why?”

“W- Well, because…” Martin struggled, trying to come up with a suitable offering. “Well because we _work together;_ you don’t want to see me every single day, as much as I don’t want to see you!”

“Granted,” Douglas smirked. “But what is the alternative? Where are you going to stay?” Martin cleared his throat, growing more uncomfortable. “In there?” Douglas asked, indicating the van. Martin blushed, and Douglas knew he’d got it in one. “Don’t be _ridiculous,_ Martin! You think _that_ is more suitable for you than living in an actual _home?”_

“No! No, of course I _don’t!”_ Martin shouted. “But I don’t want you feeling _sorry_ for me, Douglas! I don’t want to _owe_ you anything!”

“Martin, you don’t owe me _anything._ This is just what friends do; they help each other out. You’re helping me out, and I’m helping you out.” Martin sighed. “And it’s not like I won’t make you pull your weight around the house, trust me.” He grinned. Martin looked up and managed a smile. “Don’t worry, this isn’t _charity,_ this isn’t me _pitying_ you.” Martin was silent for a long moment, and then his shoulders finally sagged, and Douglas knew he had won.

“Fine! Fine.”

“Right, good, let’s go and get your things, then.” Douglas smirked with victory. Martin rolled his eyes, but followed him.

                “Thank you, Douglas.” Martin smiled sincerely, getting into the back of Douglas’ car. Douglas nodded to him understandingly and they were then on their way.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Martin hated this. He couldn’t _refuse_ to come, obviously. It was his _mother._ It was her birthday and he had as much right to be there as Caitlin or Simon. Though, when he _was_ there, he felt he may as well be somewhere else; he didn’t really _exist._ Occasionally his mother would look over and smile sadly at him, and he would force himself to smile back as if he was enjoying himself. He wasn’t, though.

                Simon had grabbed him as soon as he had entered the door, swinging him in the air. Martin screamed until he was put down and then straightened the creases that had formed in his uniform. He _hated_ Simon. Well… maybe not _hated._ But he definitely didn’t get along with him. With his _fabulous_ job, his _fabulous_ family, and of course the _fabulous_ moustache. God, he hated it all. No. No, not _hated._ He was his _brother,_ after all. He couldn’t _hate_ him. No.

                Wendy soon came to the door and he leant down to kiss her, wishing her a happy birthday. Once she let go of him, he handed her the card he had bought with a small gift. It wasn’t a good, expensive gift like Simon or Caitlin had bought for her; it was just what Martin could afford. Douglas had offered to give him something towards it, but Martin was already _living in his house,_ he couldn’t take money from him as well! Douglas, though, realised his mistake in offering immediately and shook his head, because as they had agreed _Douglas is not pitying Martin, or treating him as a charity case._ Still, Wendy managed to at least pretend to like the present. Maybe she did, Martin thought, but soon got that idea out of his head. _How_ could _she like that?_

                Martin liked to sit in one of the armchairs, otherwise he would have to sit beside Caitlin and Simon, and he knew the sort of conversation he would get from them. He grimaced as he thought about it, looking out the window. To be honest, he didn’t really mind Caitlin; she wasn’t like Simon, she wasn’t _horrible_ to Martin all of the time. But they still didn’t really get along. Because neither of them really like the same things or anything. She never understood his love for planes, and he never understood her love for… well, anything she really liked as a child. She would occasionally invite him over just to see her kids, and he went round on their birthdays, but apart from that they never really saw each other. He was the black sheep of the family and he _hated_ it.

                That’s it. That’s what he hated. Just being an outcast in his own family; just _knowing_ he really doesn’t belong there; all of his family members were successful, they had all done something good with their lives. Simon and Caitlin both had their own families now, both had good paying jobs, they even had their own _houses._ His dad’s money probably helped with some of that, he frowned. Even his _dad_ thought he was the black sheep of the family. He _must_ have. He left him the rubbish old _van!_ As much as he would like to believe what his mother told him, he just can’t. Maybe his dad _did_ think only Martin would look after the van, but _how_ exactly when he had _no money?_ He sighed, frustrated as he listened to Wendy talk to his brother and sister about how their lives are going, and “how are the kids?” “how’s the job going?” she would ask each of them. Martin knew it was only a matter of time before he would be asked.

                He turned round when the question was broached. He didn’t know what to say. He looked into his mother’s hopeful eyes, knowing what she was hoping for; that he had quit being a pilot and got a _real_ job, because she hadn’t really got it into her head that this was a _real_ job and it’s what Martin had _always_ wanted to do, no matter how much his family has discouraged him. She went on looking as Martin thought for an answer. He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth! “Well, I don’t _actually_ get paid to be a pilot, hence why I do ICARUS on the side, but now the van’s broken and I have _no_ money to fix it. Because of this I got evicted from my flat and am now living with my first officer, quite embarrassing really”. No, no. That _definitely_ wouldn’t do. Especially not in front of Simon and Caitlin. He sighed and shook his head. “Not much, really. Still a pilot. Still flying places. You know, same old.” He mumbled. Wendy’s hopefulness evaporated and her smile almost dropped, though she managed to hold it until she thought Martin wasn’t looking. He was, though. He saw. Even if he hadn’t been he _knew._ He could practically _hear_ the disappointment. He hated this.

                “Martin, do you need a lift?” Caitlin offered as she opened the door. Simon had already left, thankfully, and so the rest of the evening had been _alright._ Well, to be honest, it had all gone pretty much the same and nothing had changed, because Martin _still_ felt uncomfortable. Caitlin and Wendy had chatted and chatted, and there was no way Martin could join in because he _didn’t exist._ Much like in the attic at the shared house. _Did anybody really know Martin Crieff? Could anybody_ see _him?_ Obviously not.

“N-no, thanks.” He shook his head, wanting to accept but knew he couldn’t because she would have to take him to Douglas’ house and then she would ask why and Martin didn’t want her to know, or anybody, for that matter. She smiled and nodded, accepting it and then left, leaving Martin and his mother alone.

                “Martin is everything alright?” his mother asked as he went to say goodbye. He nodded reluctantly; there was really _no point_ in telling her. “ICARUS is going well?” he sighed. Of course. She would ask about his _van job. Not_ about his _real job,_ but his van job. Of course.

“Yes, yes, fine.” He nodded, becoming aggravated. He didn’t let that show though, because he couldn’t get angry with his mother. He knew she didn’t mean to upset him. She just didn’t _understand,_ that was all. Nobody really ever did with Martin.

“Good, good.” She smiled, hope coming back into her eyes. “You’ll have made your father proud.” She smiled, patting him on the shoulder. Martin still wouldn’t let himself get angry, though _that_ hurt. _Why can’t he be proud of me for being a_ pilot? He thought. _But no, no, he chooses the van job to be proud of! Any_ normal _parent would be glad that their son is a pilot!_

                He waited until he left the house to clench his fists and curse under his breath as he walked angrily down the road. Yes, he would be walking back to Douglas’ house because he hadn’t any change to get on the bus and he just _couldn’t_ ask Douglas to pick him up. He had bugged him _enough,_ surely.

* * *

 

Douglas opened the door to a very distressed Martin, dripping from head to toe with rain. He paused for a moment, taking in the scene before Martin spoke. “C-can I come in?” he asked shivering. Douglas quickly moved out of the way as to allow Martin space to enter, and then shut the door quietly behind him.

“What happened? I thought I said you could call me if you needed a lift back.” He sighed.

“Hm.” Martin shrugged, kicking his shoes off and then making his way into the living room, throwing himself down onto the comfy sofa. He sighed with delight as he finally felt _comfortable._ Douglas, after standing for a few minutes speechless, eventually followed him into the living room and stared down at him.

                “What happened?” Martin shrugged, not really wanting to explain everything. Douglas huffed and sat beside Martin, making himself comfortable and making it clear that he was not going to move until Martin told him _everything._ Martin sighed, exasperated and then let his shoulders sag.

“Just… I don’t _know!”_ he moaned, but Douglas stayed silent, waiting for him to carry on. “I just don’t _fit_ in there. I don’t _belong_ there.”

“Martin, they are your family, of _course_ you belong there.”

“No, no, but I don’t. Maybe I’m related to them by blood, but _nothing else!_ I just… I don’t seem to _fit._ I’m part of another puzzle – I’m just not meant to be _there.”_ He explained to Douglas, trying to make him see.

“I understand, Martin. But why? I know about your brother and his…” he paused, quirking an eyebrow. “ _Moustache,”_ he smirked, managing to get a small smile from Martin. “But, apart from that, the rest of your family seem to _like_ you.” He tried; Martin rolled his hands and raised his hands as he spoke.

“No, that’s-that’s what everybody always thinks- always says! But they _don’t._ Not really. We never _talk_ to each other, we don’t have conversations! They could all talk together for hours and I’m just _sat there_ staring out of a window, just wondering when I could sort of join in, but that time _never_ arises! And I don’t blame _them,_ it’s just that we don’t have anything in common and none of them respect me or my choice in job or anything!” he sank bank down, now tired out. “My mum… she doesn’t _want_ me to be a pilot. She wanted me to do something like Simon, be _successful like Simon, have a family like Simon, and have a_ house _like Simon!_ But she doesn’t understand that that’s not what _I_ want. I just want to be a pilot!” he shook his head. “She seemed so upset when I told her I still _am_ a pilot, but she soon brightened up again when I told her everything with ICARUS was fine. I couldn’t tell her the truth, obviously.” He buried his face in his hands and felt Douglas staring at him.

“You know,” Douglas coughed, trying to rid himself of his usual sarcastic tone for this moment. “A _lot_ of people hate their families, it’s alright to do so, especially when they don’t allow you- don’t respect you for pursuing a career you’ve always wanted to do.” Martin took his head from his hands and looked up. “My dad never wanted me to be a pilot; he wanted me to do what he did. Though, unfortunately I never had a particular interest for running a business.” Now it was Martin’s turn to quirk an eyebrow and Douglas grinned. “Seriously, I just didn’t ever like the sound of it. But, in the end, my dad was… hm… he wasn’t _happy,_ but he wasn’t _angry,_ either.” Douglas smiled. “He never showed any resentment towards me for not following that career path, and so we’ve never really had many arguments. Though, God knows what he would have to say about me now working at MJN!” Douglas chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’m just saying, your parents probably don’t _resent_ you for becoming a pilot, Martin. They just _think_ they know what’s best for you.” Martin smiled for a moment, speechless. He _knew_ his parents never _hated_ him, and as much as he felt it, he never really _hated_ them. He just got angry with them a _lot._ “To be honest, if my parents gave me _that_ van I would be awfully angry as well,” he smirked, causing Martin to push him over a little.

“That _damn van,”_ he muttered with a smile on his face, shaking his head.

* * *

 

"Now, do you want some tea?” Douglas asked, finally pushing himself up from the sofa. Martin nodded and smiled, pushing himself further into the chair and almost falling asleep. “You’d better go get changed,” Douglas turned back, noticing his captain resting on the sofa. “You’ll ruin my sofa.” Martin frowned, but then allowed himself to chuckle a little before getting up and yawning.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's getting closer! Sorry for the long-ish wait (at least I think...) I've got exams soon! Argh - scary! And if you're reading Aeroplanes in the Night Sky then I am super sorry for not updating yet, it will happen very soon - hopefully Monday or around that time, so do not panic! Anyway, thank you so much for the comments and the kudos, glad to see you guys are enjoying this and I hope you enjoy it still! Thanksssssssss!


	5. Chapter 5

Martin leaned against the cold brick wall behind him, knees close to his chest and arms surrounding himself, shivering all over. He knew this _wasn’t_ a good idea, what had possessed him to go? There was no point asking these sorts of questions now, of course, because he _had_ gone and this had happened, so there was no point dwelling on the past. Though, he did. Martin always questioned every decision he made, especially now. He couldn’t get his thoughts together, he couldn’t think of a plan; he wasn’t like a lot of other people he knew. He wasn’t like _Douglas;_ he couldn’t just muster a plan out of absolutely _nothing._ He had to panic first, which was his go to thing. That was his default setting. So, that’s what he did. He scanned around the area and then allowed his head to fall into his knees as he sobbed hard, wishing he could just get up and go home. Well, to Douglas’ house, because he _still_ hadn’t managed to move out yet and find a place, even though he had promised Douglas he would be out of his hair reasonably quickly. He knew at the time he was lying and now he was going too far, he thought. He couldn’t get to Douglas’ now anyway, because his legs wouldn’t move. He couldn’t push himself up, he was shaking far too much, and his legs would just give way if he stood, so he didn’t bother. He just allowed himself to cry for a long time.

                Eventually he managed to leave the gloomy alleyway and place his hand on the wall, so he could guide himself to the bus stop. He managed to quickly make it to the seat just before his legs decided to fall beneath him. He cowered away when he looked up and the shining light from the streetlamp shone too brightly in his eyes, and then turned away in shame, glad that nobody was there to see him like this. _What am I going to do?_ He wondered, still panicking, though less so than before. He knew. He knew exactly what he _had_ to do, and as much as he _really_ didn’t want to, he had absolutely no choice in the matter. The money he had had been stolen, and so he couldn’t get the bus back to Douglas’, so there was no other way. Unless he walked of course, but he really couldn’t. There was no way his legs would manage for that long; he ached all over. He knew he only had one option: to call Douglas. He realised Douglas would argue with him if he didn’t, so he may as well. He just didn’t want Douglas to _see._ To notice what a wreck his pilot had become. Ever since he had moved into Douglas’ home, he had been nothing but trouble; he’d been a complete nuisance, he thought. It wasn’t _his_ fault, though; it was just his terrible luck. But it was a lot less noticeable when Douglas wasn’t there to see it. Because it was just Martin who knew and he was used to it. Whenever Douglas found the man in a state, he made out like it was a huge deal, and it really wasn’t to Martin anymore, because bad things _always_ happen to him, so why would they matter now? Obviously though, this was a little more than the usual _bad thing._ He’d just been _mugged._ He scoffed at the realisation; _who would want to mug me?_ He shook his head, clutching himself. Martin hardly had a penny, so the mugger didn’t get much; they didn’t even bother taking his phone because it was such an ancient model. They did, however, have a good laugh whilst beating him up. He didn’t really understand that part, to be honest. He guessed it was just because they _could._ Because they knew he couldn’t defend himself, and so they played that to their advantage. Because they wanted to _control_ something. He didn’t really know, he didn’t _want_ to know, because whatever it was, it wasn’t a nice reason and it made him seem even more _pathetic._

                He made the call, finally, after sitting for almost an hour at the dingy bus stop where some kids graffitied all over the timetable had, and some of the glass had been smashed. What had possessed him to come to such a disgraceful area? He pondered on the thought as the phone rang, wishing he didn’t have to do this. On the seventh ring, there was a grumble. It was, after all, around two in the morning. “What?” the voice on the other line mumbled angrily, waiting for a response from the caller. The caller, though, didn’t have a response. He didn’t really know what to say; he’d started panicking again. Douglas would just be annoyed at him for waking him up, he shouldn’t have done this! “Hello?” the voice grew angrier, and so finally Martin coughed nervously.

“D-Douglas?” he started quietly, in his usual awkward tone. Douglas had somehow picked up the nervousness in his voice and immediately asked him what was wrong, the majority of the anger evaporated. “N-nothing, nothing. I’m fine. Fine.” He spoke quickly, realising straight after that he really wasn’t very convincing. “N-no, I just… I just wondered if- if you could pick me up?”

“Why, where are you?” Douglas slurred, clearly still half asleep.

“Erm…” Martin looked around, realising he actually didn’t have a _clue_ where he was. “I’m, er… I’m at a bus stop…” he spoke, still looking around.”

“Martin.” Douglas sighed. “It’s not bees, but it still doesn’t really _help.”_

“Right, right, yeah- sorry.” Martin coughed, once again panicky.

“Is everything alright, Martin?”

“Yeah, fine- fine. Just can’t find a sign… Ah, there!” he said triumphantly, smiling weakly. He gave Douglas the street name, and allowed him to get changed. Then, he waited.

 

“Martin?” Douglas spoke softly as he saw Martin sat at the bus stop. His captain turned around, his face sinking when he saw the shocked expression greeting him. “What on _earth_ happened?” Douglas said, drawing closer to him, pointing at some dried blood on his cheek and then inspecting the rest of the bruises and the torn up clothes.

“N-nothing, nothing…” Martin spoke shyly, turning his head away in embarrassment.

“Clearly _something_ happened, what was it?”

“I said _nothing,_ Douglas!” Martin turned back to face him, almost shouting before he realised Douglas was only trying to show some concern for him. “S- sorry… sorry…” he sighed, shaking his head.

“No, no, it’s perfectly alright.” Douglas managed to stop himself from asking again what had happened. “Are you hurt badly?” Martin shrugged. “ _Martin_.” He spoke sternly.

“A- a bit...”

“Some of those do look quite bad…” Douglas said, sitting himself beside Martin. “We should take you to A&E, get you checked out?”

“What- _no!_ Why?”

“ _Because_ Martin you’re hurt and there may be some serious damage.” He spoke in a tone that suggested it was obvious, which it was, but Martin didn’t want to face facts. “Now, tell me what happened.”

“Please, Douglas-”

“Martin, _you_ called _me,_ so you know that I was going to ask and I _will_ find out eventually. If you get it over with now, you’ll save a whole argument that I will eventually win.” He was right, of course. He was always right in these situations. Well, in any situation really.

“I… I was… mugged.” He said, silently, though Douglas managed to catch it.

“What? When?”

“I- I don’t know… about an hour or so ago, maybe?” he sighed, shaking his head. “I just want to forget about it…” Douglas was silent for a moment, figuring out how to play this. He didn’t _need_ to know anymore, this was enough information. So, he wouldn’t ask any more questions about the whole ordeal.

“Alright,” Douglas nodded, placing a comforting hand on Martin’s shoulder. Martin managed a weak smile and then allowed his head to drop to look at the floor. “But you need to let me take you to the hospital.” Douglas ordered, but in a friendly tone. Martin raised his head, but Douglas quickly stopped him from objecting. “ _No_ arguments. It is _my_ car, I shall drive you wherever I please, and that it the hospital.”

“But we’ll be in there for _hours,_ Douglas, and they’ll be asking me all these questions and I just…”

“You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to, and you need to make sure there’s no serious damage been done, alright?” Martin nodded reluctantly after a few minutes. “Good,” Douglas smiled. “Now, let me help you up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I just had my first (out of 7) exams today so I've just been working really, hence why I also haven't updated Aeroplanes in the Night Sky (even though I said I would - super, super sorry! Hopefully I'll update that soon, too!), but I have exams all the rest of this week and next week, but then I have a break - woo! So hopefully I'll get some writing done! Thanks to everyone who has been reading this, who has left comments and kudos! You guys are the best, and thanks for sticking with the story even though it takes me forever to update!


	6. Chapter 6

Martin couldn’t bare it anymore. Those empty stares in his direction. Those eyes looking into his soul, trying to figure out who he is, but somehow not finding the answer. Then the question “who did you say you were?”. He hated it. He couldn’t stand it. But still, he would smile and he would answer, explaining how they knew each other. Douglas would nod along as he spoke, sometimes it would actually dawn on him, and others he would simply pretend as not to seem so strange. Martin wondered how Douglas actually _felt._ He never really told him anymore; he couldn’t. Douglas couldn’t begin to explain, and Martin couldn’t begin to fathom it. The pain. The confusion. The complete lack of self-control. And then, of course, there were the mood swings. At first, Martin had found it hard to cope. He knew he _had_ to though, he had to find a way to deal with it for the man that couldn’t. He owed him that much. He would sit by his side every day and _deal with it,_ because this man had dealt with so many of his problems, this was the _least_ he could do.

                Though, that wasn’t the _only_ reason Martin sat there every single day with this man. His friend. It was because he knew he didn’t need to be anywhere; he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. This is where he _needed_ to be, and so it was where he _wanted_ and _would_ be, until the end. Because Douglas was his _friend._ And as much as it _killed_ Martin to watch his first officer slowly deteriorate right in front of his eyes in mere days, he would do it until the _very end._ Because if Douglas didn’t have a choice, then neither did _he._

Thankfully, there were occasional visits from the rest of those from MJN. They understand that Douglas wouldn’t always recognise them. Some days, however, he was very happy to see them. Those days were very few, now. Martin was grateful they would come along, especially Arthur, when he could see how devastated he was every time he arrived and was asked who he was. Martin had managed to get used to it, respond as if it was normal – which it had become – but Arthur, he still couldn’t get the idea into his head that Douglas was really _gone._ “But he’s right _there!”_ he argued, more with himself than with Carolyn or with Martin. Eventually, he did start to understand it all. He understood Douglas was no longer the old Sky God he used to be. Well, some days he might be. Some days Arthur would come around and Douglas would tell him stories of flights he’d done, back in the days. Some of those Arthur had been on, Douglas didn’t remember, though. “I remember that!” he would blurt out quickly, but then realise Douglas didn’t really remember MJN Air, let alone the crew. Carolyn would smile to him reassuringly, and he’d nod back solemnly, shrinking again before listening once more to tales of the flights he’d been on. Martin would sit there and listen too, smiling as he remembered those days as well. Those _brilliant_ days. So long ago…

* * *

 Then, quite suddenly, it was all over. Martin had been there. He had been sat with Douglas all night. He knew it would be happening soon, though not quite so suddenly. Douglas didn’t know who he was, but he didn’t mind, as long as he was _there._

                Martin sat alone in his own armchair, realising he never actually moved out of Douglas’ house… He smirked when thinking about it all now. The smirk, however, faded fast and he broke. It had been a while since he had cried, trying to stay strong for Douglas. A few times he would have cried in the bathroom alone, but that was at the beginning. He’d managed to control himself; Douglas was the one who needed care – he had to be _fine._ He had to be _there._ What good was he to Douglas in such a state? No, he had to be calm. But now Douglas was gone, and there was no holding back.

                He shivered as he cried loudly into his hands, wishing this had _never happened._ Wishing he had _somebody_ there. Obviously Carolyn and Arthur had come; devastated by the news also, though they could see Martin had clearly broken. Everything he had done for Douglas, how hard he had worked to _help him,_ it had all just disappeared in the blink of an eye. Now, Martin was all on his own. It was early in the morning, very early, and he hadn’t been able to sleep. He had tossed and turned in his bed, trying to just stop every single thought whirring around in his head. Yet nothing worked. So, now he sat, knees tucked tight into his chest, head in his hands, weeping until his eyes went sore.

                He just wanted _Douglas._ He, for some strange reason, believed Douglas would still _be there._ Douglas was the only one who had ever _been there,_ so where was he now? _Now_ Martin _truly_ needed him. He expected him to just walk in the door, sit beside him and comfort him until everything was alright, everything was okay. That didn’t happen this time. That wouldn’t happen this time.

* * *

 

It was a reasonably quiet funeral; his daughters were there, sobbing as they leant against their mothers’ shoulders. Martin watched them as he got up to say a few words, gulping as he worried he would indeed screw this up. _Just his luck._

He wanted to start to say what a great man Douglas was, and a great pilot, but he just… he couldn’t find the right _words._ Because he knew if Douglas was sat right in front of him, he would be rolling his eyes, chuckling as Martin made this cheesy speech. Because that wasn’t _Douglas Richardson_ he would be talking about. He looked down at his speech and back up to the small crowd of people. That wasn’t a speech for the _Sky God._ That was just a generic speech, suggesting Martin never knew him at all. Did he? Martin pondered on that thought for a while… Maybe at first, when he started MJN, the two didn’t exactly get along. He certainly never imagined he would be up here, giving this speech. He never imagined that he would be sat by his pilot _every single day_ as his memory and mind slowly disappeared right in front of him. But, that’s life.

                So, Martin thought. He knew what he wanted to say, and he said it. He told stories of flights they had been on, the very same stories Douglas had told Arthur. He explained how he _really_ was an excellent pilot, but he would _never, ever_ have told him that because his ego had been as high as it needed to be, and knowing that his ‘all perfect’ captain thought of him in such a way, _admired him_ in such a way, would only increase it further, and “you all know what that would be like to work with” he laughed, thinking about the days they never got. He told them about how Douglas was not only his first officer, but his friend… The closest friend he’s had in a _very_ long time. “Douglas was there for me all of the time. _Always._ He… he always knew how to comfort me, which was nice, because I’m so panicked all of the time. I- I hate to say this, but he was quite good at comforting – there wasn’t really _anything_ he was bad at. I vowed to, _one day,_ find _something_ he couldn’t do. It never happened.” He smiled sadly, shaking his head. “B- but… I just wish- I wish he was _here. Now._ Because, yeah, h- he was there all those times I needed comforting. But, what- what he doesn’t- didn’t realise… is that this is definitely by _far_ the worst experience I have had in a long time. I- I wish he was here _now,_ because- because I… I can’t do this alone.” He began to tear up. A shaking hand wiped a running tear from his face and he carried on shakily. “I really, _really_ miss him. And- and I just wish I did alright… alright when I had to help him- had to comfort him, because I’m not so good at all that… _He_ needed _me…_ I hope he was… was alright with that. With me, helping him. Because that man really helped me through a _lot,_ and I still owe him now, even though he’s- he’s… gone.” He nodded, staring down now at the floor. More tears had started to fall and he placed the back of his hands to his eyes, apologising. Everybody looked at him with sympathy, others also beginning to cry now. “I’m s-sorry,” he began, before leaving to his seat. “D- Douglas may have been… somewhat hard to work with sometimes, but- but I never could – or _would –_ have asked for anybody else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's the end. I don't think there are any errors... If you do spot any, don't hesitate to point them out! Anyway, I hope you enjoy the final chapter - well, as much as you can! All comments and kudos are hugely appreciated :D Just to let you know, I'll hopefully be updating Aeroplanes in the Night Sky tomorrow - in case any were wondering - because my final exam is after half term, so I have a lot of time now :) Anyway, thank you so much for reading this story and sticking with it even though I have been gone so long! Thankssssssss


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